


put on your red shoes and dance the blues

by gutsandglitter



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:11:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsandglitter/pseuds/gutsandglitter
Summary: When Hestia comes to her in tears, saying she and her husband are having trouble conceiving, Hecate hears herself agreeing to be their surrogate. All of a sudden her life becomes a whirlwind of hormone injections and doctor’s visits, culminating in one beautiful and terrifying moment when the second pink line appears on the store-bought pregnancy test.





	put on your red shoes and dance the blues

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt fill meme - Dance AU + Pregnancy Fic + Scars

Hecate will never be able to say for sure what made her agree to it. She’d never even really liked her sister to begin with. But when Hestia comes to her in tears, saying she and her husband are having trouble conceiving, Hecate hears herself agreeing to be their surrogate. All of a sudden her life becomes a whirlwind of hormone injections and doctor’s visits, culminating in one beautiful and terrifying moment when the second pink line appears on the store-bought pregnancy test. 

She leaves her first Lamaze class feeling nauseous, and for once it’s not morning sickness. Everyone else was there with a spouse or a partner, and though Hestia was there Hecate didn’t think she’d ever felt so alone in her life. 

She turns down Hestia’s offer to drive her home; her doctor has been encouraging her to take more walks, and she could use the fresh air. As she walks down the hall of the community center, she hears music coming from one of the other classrooms, something sweet and familiar. Out of curiosity she pokes her head through the open door to see the music’s source, and stops dead in her tracks. 

It’s a ballroom dance class, and an advanced one at that. The room is a sea of color, with women’s flared skirts fluttering on each twirl and rock turn. But Hecate’s eyes are drawn to the instructor. She’s petite with waves of dark brown hair just starting to show hints of silver, and she’s wearing a pink a-line dress that hugs her curves in a devastatingly attractive manner. Hecate can’t help but gape as the woman ducks under her partner’s arm, moving with the grace of a golden age Hollywood starlet. 

_The best is yet to come and babe, won't it be fine?_  
_The best is yet to come, come the day you're mine._

Hecate’s not sure how long she stands there staring, but the next thing she knows the class is ending and the dancers are filing out the door part her. They clear out quickly, leaving just the instructor and her partner behind. He says something to her and she laughs, a bright, warm sound which makes Hecate’s tummy flutter. 

The woman catches sight of Hecate and smiles. “Can I help you?”

Hecate shakes her head, rests her hand on the doorframe. “No, I’m alright. I just, um…you dance very well.” As soon as she says it she wants to kick herself. Of course she dances well, she’s a bloody , _dance instructor_. Pathetic.

But the woman just smiles and graciously accepts the compliment. She tucks her hair behind her ears and comes closer to the door. “Are you a dancer yourself?”

Hecate shakes her head. “No, not at all. Two left feet.”

“Nonsense. Come to one of our beginner classes, I’m sure you’re a natural.”

Hecate shakes her head again, taking a step back. “No, thank you. I should er, I should actually get going.”

“Alright then.” The woman shrugs and smiles again. “Well you’re always welcome to come back and observe any of our classes, Ms…?”

“Hardbroom. Hecate Hardbroom.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ada Cackle.”

*****

Against her better judgement, Hecate goes back again after her next Lamaze class. And the next one. And then the day after that, because Ada has an intermediate tango class and Hecate has suddenly developed a very keen interest in learning more about the tango.

After a few weeks of observing classes, she volunteers to help Ada out with collecting payments and switching out the cds between dances. She’s not crazy about having to talk to and interact with so many people but she likes being helpful, likes being able to feel useful now that school is out for the summer and she’s got nothing to do but sit in her empty flat and watch as her belly and ankles swell.

But more than that, she likes spending time with Ada. She’s kind and warm, and she has an endless number of fascinating stories from her time on the professional ballroom dance competition circuit. (She’d been forced to quit ten years prior, after tearing her ACL. “It didn’t even happen while I was dancing,” Ada says with a laugh, showing Hecate the long, puckered scar over her left knee. “I was carrying laundry down the stairs and missed the last step.”)

More than anything, Hecate loves the way Ada looks at her. Since her baby bump started showing it seems that everyone looks at her with pity (and sometimes disdain, when they notice she doesn’t have a wedding ring), and it’s hard to remember the last time someone looked at her like she was something worth looking at. Even before she was pregnant, she had gotten used to people looking at her with uncomfortable curiosity or (in the case of her students) barely-disguised fear. Ada looks at her with such tenderness, an open and warm acceptance that makes Hecate feel safe, safer than she’s felt in a very long time. 

It takes Ada two months to get her onto the dance floor. It’s late one Friday evening, just after the advanced swing class, and the two of them are alone in the semi-darkened dance studio. A few locks of Ada’s hair have come loose from her updo and her cheeks are still flushed from exertion, and Hecate thinks if she doesn’t kiss her tonight she’ll simply burst from longing. 

Ada crosses to the stereo and pops in a new cd. After a few moments, the first few notes of a Norah Jones song fill the air. 

She comes back to where Hecate is sitting and extends her hands. “One dance?” she asks, flashing a shy, hopeful smile. 

Hecate bites her lip and nods, taking Ada’s hands and allowing herself to be led out onto the dancefloor.

Ada quietly explains the steps, but Hecate finds it hard to concentrate with Ada’s hand on her waist. It’s a little awkward at first (especially since Hecate’s protruding belly keeps brushing against Ada’s navel), but Hecate has spent so much time watching Ada dance and observing how her body moves that she finds it surprisingly easy to fall into sync with her.

They make a lazy loop around the dance floor, and Hecate is proud of the fact she only stumbles once. As the song ends they come to a halt, though they continue to hold each other.

“Ada,” Hecate murmurs. She moves her right hand from its position on her shoulder and slowly traces it up the curve of her neck until it’s cradling her cheek.

Ada turns her head and kisses Hecate’s palm. Their lips meet a few seconds later and Hecate slides her hand into Ada’s hair, pulling her in as close as she can.

Ada strokes her hand along the side of Hecate’s stomach, and it’s at this moment that their unborn niece decides to give her first tiny, fluttering butterfly kicks.


End file.
